


No Place I'd Rather Be

by placentalmammal



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Dating, Dirty Dancing, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/placentalmammal/pseuds/placentalmammal
Summary: Killian's been working too hard, and Carey has to resort to under-handed tactics to get her to take a break. Fortunately, Killian doesn't mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Google, which makes learning about reptile anatomy fun and easy! And I knowingly took some liberties with reptile anatomy here. If you're a herpetologist, repeat to yourself "it's just a fanfic, I should really just relax."
> 
> Also [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHmML7bu-iM) is a hurdy-gurdy. Prepare to turn up, 1477 style.

"I can't dance."

Killian glances up from the crossbow in her lap and sees Carey draped dramatically over a disused target. She's wearing knee-length pants and a ratty, cut-off t-shirt that reveals _all_ of her scaly midriff and _most_ of her nonexistent bust. And she's clearly been spending too much time with Magnus, because she's wearing nail polish. _Glittery_ nail polish.

"That's a shame," says Killian, returning her focus to her weapon. Lately, the firing mechanism has been sticking, and she can't figure out why. It's slowing her down on the practice range, and she needs to fix it before her next field assignment. "You should learn before your brother's wedding."

Carey straightens up, a grin spreading across her face. "Actually," she says, and her voice has taken on a wheedling note that Killian has learned to associate with danger. "I was thinking that maybe _you_ could teach me!"

"I'm in the middle of something, here, Care." Killian runs her thumb across the groove, checking for imperfections. "Go bug Avi if you're looking for something to do."

"He's busy."

Killian looks up, brow quirked. "And I'm not?"

Carey grins, her pointed teeth flashing in the alchemical light. "Yeah, but you're my _girlfriend,_ " she drawls. "You _have_ to pay attention to me!"

Killian says nothing for a full thirty seconds, focusing intently on the butt of her crossbow. There's a gouge in the polished wood, an inch-long scratch. It's nothing a little wax and polish won't fix. She'll take care of it once she's found the mechanical defect.

"Babe?" Carey speaks hesitantly, and then she bursts out laughing. "I get it, you're ignoring me."

"You're smart _and_ cute," says Killian, turning the crossbow over in her lap. She examines the spring and latch with a critical eye. It's bent--but only slightly--and sitting crooked in its casing.

"Not like you." Carey rolls her eyes. " _You're_ just boring. How long has it been since we've gone out?"

Startled, Killian looks up again, mentally counting backward. They'd gone to Neverwinter on Greengrass, and Chug N' Squeeze when it first opened--

\--Nearly seven weeks ago. Killian sits up straighter, sets the crossbow aside. She reaches for Carey's hand and intertwines their fingers. Her skin is warm and dry, and the edges of Carey's scales press into Killian's palm. "I'm sorry, babe," she says, chastened. "I've just had a lot on my mind."

"And that's why you gotta make time for the fun stuff!" says Carey, earnestly, squeezing Killian's hand. "You're working too hard, Kil. It's not good for you. You're in desperate need of some you-time."

Killian drops Carey's hand. She runs her palm across her scalp, toying with her short, coarse curls. It's been too long--weeks? months?--since she's had her hair done, and her edges are a mess. There's only so much she can do with oil and combs.

"What did you have in mind?" she ventures.

Carey brightens. "I was hoping you'd ask!" She grins, and Killian groans.

It's all theatrics. The prospect of going out, _actually_ going out (and not just to the Chug N' Squeeze) has her heart beating like a drum. She and Carey have been together for years, but the other woman still makes her feel giddy and girlish. And Carey's right, absolutely right. Killian has been working too hard for too long.

Two hours later, they're sitting in one of Avi's glass cannonballs, buzzed and giggling. Killian is too tipsy to be truly nervous, but the Bureau’s unorthodox mode of transportation makes her stomach twist. Carey knows this, and she’s come prepared. As soon as they’re strapped in, she fishes a silver flask out of her bag and passes it to Killian, glittery claws clicking against the tarnished metal.

"You're more sober than me," she says, tugging at the hem of her shirt. "Not fair!"

"It's because my liver's bigger than yours, pipsqueak." She accepts the flask, takes a pull, and suppresses a grimace. She's never liked gin--never liked the hot-cold burn or the piney taste of juniper--but she pretends to for Carey's sake.

Carey slumps back against the seat. "No fair," she pouts. "I only got one lung, I deserve a powerful liver."

Smiling, Killian returns the flask. "I love you," she says, pronouncing each word with care. "Your weird face and your weird lizard guts."

"I love your green butt and your extra lungs," says Carey. "I even like your eyes, even though you only have two eyelids." She blinks sideways to illustrate her point, nictitating membrane sliding horizontally across her eyeball.

Killian swoons, but only a little. "I like it when you lick your eye," she confesses, leaning forward in her seat. "It's cooooooooooool."

"Well, I like your hair, and that thing you do with your legs--"

Avi interrupts them with a cough, his voice crackling over the built-in stone of farspeech. "Are you two ready?" he says. "I uh, don't want to interrupt, but uh. I can hear you." He takes a breath. "Every word."

Properly chastened, Carey and Killian straighten up in their seats, stifling giggles. "We're fine, Avi!" Carey trills, her voice sing-song. "Ready to blast off!"

"Aye-aye captain!" Killian can barely get the words out before she dissolves into nervous laughter, head falling back against the seat. Everything is flushed and hazy, but she reaches across the sphere for Carey's hand and squeezes. "Love you babe," she whispers, and Carey grins.

"You're a fun drunk." She leans forward and lifts Killian's hand to her mouth, kissing her knuckles. "Thanks for coming out with me."

Her flickering tongue tickles, and Killian can't help but smile. "Thanks for making me," she says. "I'd probably go nuts without you."

"I know!" says Carey, beaming. "I'm the best at--"

Her words are cut off by a loud, metallic shriek as the cannonball drops into place. Killian has time to squeeze Carey's hand before the roar of ignition and the sudden acceleration drive all rational thought out of her mind. She's been doing this for _years_ , and the lurching sensation of freefall still terrifies her. She screws her eyes shut and thanks the god or gods responsible for alcohol. Without it, she'd be too nervous to even get _in_ the cannonball, let alone _travel_ in it.

Carey's laughing, cackling with manic glee as they hurtle over plains and mountains, toward Goldcliff. She pulls the lever at the last second, slowing their descent right before they crash into the desert. There's no races tonight, everything is still and silent as they clamber out of the porthole and onto solid ground.

Killian takes a moment to collect herself, hands on her knees, breathing hard. "I hate it," she murmurs. "Hate it, hate it, hate it!"

Clucking sympathetically, Carey rubs her back and shoulders. "Come on," she says. "Let's go. I'll buy you mozzarella sticks, and then you can show me your moves." She's got no eyebrows, but she'd be waggling them if she did.

Killian laughs and shrugs her hand off. "All right," she says. "But I'm only in it for the appetizers." She straightens up and twines her arm through Carey's. Arm-in-arm, they make their way toward the main gate and the city beyond.

Their favorite bar is located in a slightly disreputable neighborhood, patronized by militia and criminals alike. It's not a _good_ bar, but the drinks are cheap and the barkeep doesn't ask questions about their bracers or out-of-town accents. They eat, drink, and make merry, and it’s not long before, Carey catches Killian's hands and pulls her out onto the dance floor. The bard is playing a hurdy-gurdy, and Killian's feeling better than she has in months. Grinning, she loops her arms around Carey's waist, and leads her through the steps of an Orcish folk dance, stomping her feet and shaking her hips.

Carey stands on her tiptoes and steals a kiss, tongue flicking across Killian's cheek. "Are you having a good time?" she asks, half-yelling to be heard over the music.

"I am!" Killian bends her head and kisses Carey more fully, hands slipping down her back to cup her flat ass. "You done good, Fangbattle."

"I'm about to do better!" She ducks out of Killian's arms and begins to move to the music. Her movements are quick and light--at odds with the intense, pulsing music but skillful nonetheless--and Killian begins to laugh.

"You rat," you says, mesmerized by the movement of the other woman's hips. "You don't need _my_ help dancing."

Carey winks. "So I lured you out here under false pretenses," she says. She steps forward and wraps her arms around Killian's shoulders, leaning heavily on her. "You can't complain, you got mozzarella sticks out of the deal."

"I'll complain if I want to," Killian grumbles, but there's no heat in it. She holds her girlfriend and they sway, out-of-step with the frantic movements of everyone around them. She presses a kiss to the top of Carey's scaly head. "I love you," she mumbles. "Even if you have a weird face and a sucky liver."

"I love you even though you're a total killjoy and your morning breath smells like Pringles."

Killian barks with laughter. "Rude! You're the worst."

"No you," says Carey, nuzzling closer and resting her head on Killian's shoulder. She breathes in deep and lets out a happy little sigh, and Killian's heart grows three sizes. The dancers and music and crummy bar fade out around them, and for a moment, they're the only people in the world. Just the two of them, caught in one another's arms, chest-to-chest, heart-to-heart. It's comfortable, it's easy, it feels right.

Killian can't help but smile. She kisses her girlfriend, and wonders how she got so lucky.


End file.
